There is this timeless proverb which may be true for some but not for all “When life gets tough, the tough get going.” Hardship can be too much to overcome sometimes when the going gets tough, life simply falls apart for people. What is the one thing that separates those who thrive regardless of adversity and those who don’t? Is it genetics, luck, or pure willpower? I personally believe in pure willpower.
I started experiencing the struggles of broken marriage at an early age when my parents divorced.
I ended up with my dad and stepmom, my mom travelled without leaving traces of her where about. I didn’t have a problem with my mom not being around initially because I was so fond of my dad and I all I wanted was to be with him till reality of life settled in when I realized all I had was’ me’.
Now that I am self-dependent I realize how important it is for children especially the girl-child to have a solid family around to support and encourages them and not discourage them.
I like to build myself to the point where I can always be of help to such children and most importantly orphans. I wish to live for them, I show such children I come across the love I yarned for when growing up but never had .Someday when I have the means and resources I may even put out more of this love because I know how it feels to live in fear and cower of terror.
As I still work so hard to recover from my latest battle with my stepmom, I recall how the very moment I met her I sensed things were never going to be the same .I sensed this animosity as our eye met that fateful day she came into the house when I was just six years old. There to be nothing I could do right. The latest emotional battle I had with my stepmom is about a month ago which has left me so drained. It had to do with me wanting to speak my grand mom who lives them. It had been a while since I heard from her and I wanted to find out how she was doing. She didn’t sound good on the phone it was obvious she was sick, I pushed further to ask exactly what was wrong with her which I believe wasn’t much of a big deal and before I could end the question it had heated up into a full blown mud flinging. She snatched the phone from my grand mom and that was it.
I was never this brave until after I completed Junior High School, for lack of better terms with my stepmom. I remember when I was about eight years old when my dad had to leave for school to finish his first degree. This was the moment I saw how she could pretend to be very nice and kind towards me. She spouted all sorts of sweet nothings, words of praise and admirations of how cool of a child I am and how lucky she was to be a mom to me. I could see in her eyes the petrifying glance of medusa as she poured her honeyed words of praise. As soon as my father moved out of the house I realized my assumptions were correct as her hatred began to emerge.
Why was I always her victim? Because I was the only other woman in, my father’s life and it was very obvious I come before any other person and I meant so much to him. Any least opportunity she had she pounced on ,me and do as she pleased till she was tired,terrorize me by likening my appearance to that of various animals especial a the’dog’.Upon all these she dared call my mother a woman of ill repute to whom I would most likely grow into. I recall how I would cry and scream for help but no one could hear me because she’s would turned the volume of the radio so high you would think we are having some kind of a party in our room. We lived in a police barracks, we had several other people living in the barracks. Anytime I stepped out to play, people will keep questioning me about the marks I had on my body as a results of the beatings and I would always go mute. I could not tell anyone how I got those marks because I knew I was going to be another call for trouble and I was going to be locked indoors which was a threat she always gave me. I loved my times outside because that was the only times I could get away from her and have fresh breath so I wasn’t ready to spill the beans to get myself locked up.
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